Re: Gotham log: Bruce W & Zatanna Z
[She could have told him the cards would have shown Alfred to be consistent, to know his own path as solidly as the major arcana knew their places in the turn of fate. She could have told him that old gods and dead magic meant nothing in the face of humanity. She sat, and she folded her white hands into her lap, the twist of ink that climbed a wrist and vanished like smoke as it crawled toward her elbow, and she sat, demure.
How did she know him? Did she tell him of mistrust, of promises broken, of the mistakes she'd made in the past? San Fransisco was immediate, was the ugly shattering of broken glass. Zatanna's voice was smooth but she chose her words carefully.] I knew you when we were small. We met at a birthday party. Yours. Alfred hired my father. He was a magician. [She smiled, it curled on her mouth, soft. Generous.] We are a family of magic. [Her eyes sobered; there was no laughing at this.] Your parents. They had died oh so recently. I made you smile.